


What the cold brings

by historical_ramblings



Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: Ben's horse doesn't survive so i figured i should tag that, Hair Washing, M/M, alex shows up briefly, bed sharing, concerned boyfriend george
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 17:48:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9396281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/historical_ramblings/pseuds/historical_ramblings
Summary: Ben gets his horse shot out from under him and has to trudge back to camp in the snow. George worries.





	

Cold.

It was so cold. Ben hadn’t even been away from camp for a full day, but it felt like an eternity. An eternity since he’d kissed George good morning. 

He’d been caught unawares, on his way to Culper’s dead drop with one other rider, since Caleb was busy, and had his horse shot out from under him as a reward for being inattentive.

His horse had squealed horribly when she’d been hit. 

At least she’d died quickly.

At least he’d been able to send the other man back to camp ahead of him. If he died out here, alone in the cold, he wouldn’t have led his men to the same fate.

He’d hit his head on a rock on the way down, giving him a nasty headache and making a terrible bloody mess of his hair. He lost count of the redcoats he’d killed, after that. But he’d gotten away. Gotten himself pointed back to camp.

Now, not only had the army lost a good horse, but Ben had to trek miles back to camp in knee-deep snow. 

Back to camp. 

Back to George.

That thought spurred him on. He pulled his bloodstained uniform coat tighter around himself and started walking.

It was nearly dark when he caught sight of camp, feeling the full weight of his failures. He’d left at daybreak, intending to return with intelligence from Culper later that week. Instead, he’d been ambushed, gotten a good horse killed, and had nothing to show for it.

He met Hamilton at the entrance to camp, pacing and fussing over him. “Good lord, Tallmadge, are you alright?! The rider you sent ahead - Don’t answer. His Excellency will want to see you. Right now.” Hamilton spoke quickly, his words short and clipped. That was a tendency of his, when he was agitated. Ben had noted it before.  
Ben was rushed to Washington’s host manor almost faster than he could blink, it seemed. He took a deep breath and nodded to Hamilton, who left. Ben thought he probably wouldn’t go far. 

He slowly opened the door, carefully stepped inside. Closed the door.

He saw the fire, blazing and crackling hot. The piles of blankets on the couch. Did George have all this waiting?

He saw his general. His general, pacing back and forth between the cot and the desk and back again, wringing his hands all the while.  
Suddenly, Washington saw him.  
“Ben”, he whispered, almost like a prayer. “Thank God. Come here, my dear boy.”

Ben had to restrain himself from sprinting at the sheer need in George’s voice. 

And then decided the restraint was not worth it. 

He needed to be where George needed him, and right now that place was in George’s arms. He was there almost instantly.

“George” , Ben sighed.

When had the general become so attached to him that he would send his most valuable aide to meet him? Have the fire blazing hot? Blankets piled almost ridiculously high?

When had Ben found his own attachment to the general of an equal measure? He could not say. But now, it did not matter. He was here and George was here and it seemed George did not care about his failings in the field today. George cared that he was clean and warm and held, and he was, in short order.

Ben felt safe, tucked against George’s broad chest. Warm. Protected. And tired. With the fire blazing and the exertions from earlier both taking their toll, the blankets George had piled up on the couch looked very comfortable. He could practically feel his eyelids drooping.

“Ben” he heard George say softly “I’m afraid you need to stay awake for just a little longer. It won’t do to leave that blood in your hair overnight”  
Ben only nodded in response, too tired to do much else.

George, perhaps seeing how tired his precious Major was, or perhaps simply unwilling to be separated from him quite yet, simply scooped Ben up and placed him gently on the couch so that he was sitting up. After he’d tucked some blankets in around his boy, he filled a bowl with water and set it by the fire to warm. While the water warmed, he set out in search of nightclothes for Ben and a rag to wash Ben’s beautiful hair.

By the time George returned, the bowl was steaming. He set the nightshirt and rag down and carefully moved the hot bowl to a side table next to the couch where Ben was fighting off sleep. 

After gently undoing Ben’s braid and setting his ribbon carefully aside, George took his rag and dipped it in the warm water. Taking a section of Ben’s hair, he folded the rag around it and slowly, gently, cleaned the blood away. 

Ben’s expression was one of utter calm and tiredness. George continued cleaning Ben’s hair in a similar fashion as Ben slipped deeper into exhaustion. The poor boy must be awake now only by sheer force of will.

Finally finished with his hair, George set the rag aside and ran his fingers through the soft strands one last time, eliciting a soft, sleepy sigh from his boy.  
After gentle urging, he was able to get Ben changed into the nightshirt he’d found for him. After a brief moment of deliberation, George decided to carry the boy upstairs and tuck him into bed rather than send him back to his tent. 

He’d be far warmer here, he reasoned, and that is certainly what the boy requires now, after being out in the snow for so long.

After he’d finished getting the boy settled into bed, he realized he’d done none of his own nightly routine. No matter, Ben had needed him. Ben would always come first.  
He quickly dressed for bed in his own nightshirt (sized properly for him, though the one he’d found for Ben was much too large. The sleeves covered his Major’s hands completely).

This done, he snuffed the candles that were still burning and crawled under the covers next to his boy, George’s arm slung over Ben’s waist. Ben snuggled closer in his sleep.

Come morning, he would wake to the feeling of sleepy kisses on his eyelids, which was not at all unpleasant, in his opinion.

**Author's Note:**

> i write things on tumblr! find me @historical-ramblings
> 
> feedback feeds my soul


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